


A Court Of Lies And Promise (PROLOGUE)

by BR_Polkinghorne



Series: A Court Of Lies And Promise [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Canon Lesbian Character, F/F, F/M, Female Homosexuality, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, LGBTQ Themes, Mor/Halle, Morrigan Smut, Multi, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pre-A Court of Thorns and Roses, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-03 02:38:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13331742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BR_Polkinghorne/pseuds/BR_Polkinghorne
Summary: Feyre Archeron wasn't the first human that Tamlin brought to Prythian.It'd been over 40 years since Amarantha cursed Tamlin, and his men are growing restless. Tamlin agrees to send one sentry across the wall. Three months later, Tamlin receives words that a girl named Halle beat his sentry to death. Could she be the one to free him? Could she free all of them? Tamlin is determined to make it work with her.There's just one, teeny, tiny problem with Tamlin's plan...Halle is gay.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Something of a Prologue to the main ACOLAP (A Court Of Lies And Promise) fanfiction, which takes place during ACOTAR/ACOMAF/ACOWAR and beyond.

* * *

 HALLE’S POV

I could’ve stayed in that meadow with her forever.

With a new springtime breeze filling the air with the scent of wild flowers, and our damp clothes in a forgotten heap by the stream… just the two of us lying there in the grass. It was heaven.

Lyra’s breath was hot on my face as I leant across her chest to nuzzle her neck again. She shifted, and I landed atop her with my face between her round breasts. I glanced up at her, and the glint in her eyes simmered as she silently gave me my orders. Orders she knew I had a bad habit of seeing as nothing but optional suggestions.

I palmed them as I rose up to claim her mouth as my own. Only after I had earnt an impatient noise from deep in her throat as my prize, I moved from her mouth to her neck, biting and licking and sucking my way down past her collarbone. I moved left hand out of the way, instead wrapping my arm around her middle, so that her back bowed of its own accord as my teeth grazed the underside of her nipple.

Lyra gasp was music to my ears as I assaulted the reddening peak with my teeth and tongue. Her eyes flew open and her fingers twisted in my hair as I sat up, pulling her body hard against my own as I worked. I moved to the other peak as both my hands gripped her rump. She was already trembling when I laid her back down on the ground, and lifted her up by the behind. Her arms limp on the ground beside her head, and her legs locked into place behind my head, her efforts to cover herself were useless as my line of sight descended upon the apex of her thighs. Her tongue darted across her lower lip, and I saw her eyes flicker down to her middle for the briefest of moments.

 “Again, with the orders.” I smirked, obliging Lyra. I used my grip on her abdomen to spread her legs wider apart, and bent my neck so that my head hovered over her core. I breathed deep, and nudged at her entrance with the tip of my tongue. She shivered again, and let out a small squeal as I repeated the action. On the third _nudge_ , a low growl was unleashed from her clenched teeth. She tried to reach up and grab me, but I was quicker and dove into her heat with one movement. Her hand rested upon her thigh as shudders of relief washed over her features, followed closely by harsh rolls of pleasure.

Gods, she tasted like hot summerwine. So sweet, and yet with a tang that likened more to a near-sour saltiness, like sugared cherries or peaches.

I felt her climax approaching fast as I delved deeper into her fold. I wanted more of that taste in my mouth; I _needed_ to taste more of her. Lyra’s legs shook, and she cried out like a bird as her rapture pinnacle and a steady tide of that hot summerwine flowed from her core. I lifted my head enough to look at her as the orgasm took its toll on her features.

No, _this_ was heaven.

Kneeling above Lyra; her already flushed cheeks heated with embarrassment; her thighs shaking gently in anticipation of my next move; her lips visibly chapped and raw; her bruised neck and breasts… Was there a sight in all of Prythian more beautiful than that?

I was the one that made her like this. Only me.

I gave a low chuckle as I licked her clean.

That was how we were when the sound reached our ears. It was the guttural roar of a creature too hungry to care for subtlety… and far too close for us to ignore.

Lyra swore as we scrambled back to the stream where our clothes had been drying in the sun. I made a mental note to tease her about it later – _Lyra Moresby, prized first-born of the Children of the Blessed, and all-round potty-mouth!_ She reached the stream first, and threw my threadbare shirt and pants back over her shoulder. I dressed as fast as I could as she towelled herself off on one of her many under-skirts, and rushed to help her with all of those ties and strings that needed to be fastened before she could so much as begin to resemble the ‘innocent, pure and lady-like’ girl that she masked herself.

I didn’t mind us having to hide out in the woods to see each other.

Really, I didn’t… Until I realised what it cost Lyra to do so.

I did mind Lyra being forced to lie about things as basic as her own personality and beliefs the moment she left the safety of our woodland sanctuary.

My family knew about my preferences… And while they might not have accepted me, or who I _chose_ to be, I wasn’t the one that had been threatened with a public exorcism at the first signs of… us. It wasn’t until I saw Lyra buying salve for a puckering red mark on her cheek that I realised we had to stop, before she got hurt again. Months later, she still waits for me behind the bakery at sundown once a week.

It’d been closer to two weeks since our last meeting when she fell into step beside me on my way out of town last night, blaming her mother’s paranoia for her absence.

As that sound came again, part of me wished that she’d heeded her mother’s numerous warnings and stayed away.

“Just–leave it!” I said, gathering up the remaining tresses of fabric from her pile on the ground. The cracking and snapping of branches on the other side of the stream had us both frozen in our tracks. I turned, and instinctively yanked Lyra behind me by the wrist.

Through the greenery, a great black mass of fur and claws was stalking towards the stream.

Towards us.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

LYRA’S POV

Every inch of my body was screaming at me to run, as far and as fast as I could.

As the beast broke through the brush, my traitorous lips let out a small squeak and Halle’s grip on my arm tightened in response.

It was something like a bear, but larger than any I’d ever seen; easily twice the size of a regular brown bear. It had thick matted hair the colour of charcoal, thick legs that ended with glinting claws, and eyes of the softest caramel. It was the eyes that caught my own gaze.

The bear looked back at me with what seemed like… humane exasperation. In my head, I saw a heavily muscled man with greasy black hair and pointed ears, annoyed at having to do basic chores. I blinked away the image of the man, and focused on the beast that was crouched not ten metres away from Halle and me.

The bear huffed out a breath as it saw the strings of silver that adorned my (albeit dishevelled and somewhat lacking) clothes. An incredibly stupid and dangerous idea reared its head in the forefront of my mind, and I pulled myself out of Halle’s reach, stepping around her until her breath was again on my neck.

“What the rutting hell are you doing?” She hissed at me under her breath. “That thing will sooner gut us both, then start preaching the Word of the Blessed!”

“I know.” I glanced back at her over my shoulder, and whispered. “Run.”

* * *

 

GOREN’S POV

The smaller of the two girls came out from behind the other, and moved to kneel in the shallows. She relaxed her breathing and bent her head before me. The silver jewellery on her person marked her as another of those Children of The Blessed acolytes.

Her skirts were soaked through by the water, but the shivers were not from the cold. I could smell her fear on the breeze, like metal and brine that itched at my nostrils.

It made me sick to think that these doe-eyed humans were to be our salvation.

I had encountered three others of her… kind, since breaching the Wall. It was their blatant submissive nature that made me understand why the older courtesans still likened them to cattle.

Where was the murderous rage that had left countless Fae dead during the War? It was that anger that we were relying on to beat **her.** I let out a low growl, my upper lip curling around the sound.

“That thing will sooner gut us both, then start preaching the Word of the Blessed!”

It was the words of the other one that caught my attention. If not the acolyte, then perhaps…

If given the right motivation…

* * *

 

LYRA’S POV

“ _I_.” Halle began, her voice thick with conviction. “ _Am. Not **.** Going. Anywhere. Without. You_.”

“You’re always so … independent.” I gave her a small, private smile that told her all the things I wouldn’t have time to. I hiccoughed a sob, and said. “How’s about you let me take care of you for once?”

Emotions swam in her eyes, before they turned to hard ice.

“Take care of Finn for me, yeah?” My little brother had always preferred Halle’s company to my own, and I knew that she adored him.

“Lyr—” Halle began, only to have her voice was cut short by the beast’s. A sharp wind suddenly blew, snagging my braid, dragging it over my shoulder. I saw Halle’s expression change, her features morphing from sadness to horror.

Her mouth was moving, but I couldn’t hear her…

Then, I was flying and she was reaching for me.

Another roar from the beast broke me free of my daze. Halle had begun screaming, and was running for me. How did she get so far away?

“ _LYRA!_ ”

Pain tore through me as I was thrown back into the hard dirt. My chest was burning; there was fire in my throat. I choked on the blood that had filled my mouth. The movement turned my spine to a column of barbed-wire, pressing on every organ, joint and nerve.

“ _LYRA!_ ” Halle’s face appeared above me. Her tears stinging my skun cheeks. “ _Can you hear me?_ ”

The sob that followed knotted the wire around my heart, it’s hold tightening with every too-fast beat. I gritted my teeth against the worsening pain, and smiled up at that beautiful face.

_Please, Halle my love, don’t cry…_

_Those eyes aren’t meant for tears of pain…Only tears of joy…_

_There should be only joy in the love of my life’s eyes…_

I tried to tell her as much, when a coughing fit wracked its way through my body. My lungs seized up, my already-shallow breaths were growing more and more laboured. That too-fast beating was getting faster.

Faster.

Faster.

 

 

Then, it stopped.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

HALLE’S POV

My heart stopped beating the moment that Lyra’s feet left the ground.

The beast had appeared behind her, like a wraith in the night, and with a single motion, it threw her down-stream. Lyra landed with a damp _thud_ in the shaded embankment, still frozen with un-melted snow. As she looked over at me with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, time slowed to a crawl.

“ _LYRA_!” I screamed in terror, finally reaching her side. My hands found her face and shook at the harsh chill that had taken root. I took in the marks and grazes that peppered the side of her face. Her lips were limp, and her eyes weeping. My own became tear-filled as I hovered over her, and I prayed for the first time in years. _Please, let her be alive!_ I refused to even think about the alternative, lest it become true.

I gave her frame a less-than-gentle shake. “Lyra? Can you hear me?”

In response, I heard a wet croak. Lyra’s chest lurched and seized as she coughed over and over. Blood spurted from her mouth, and I felt droplets land on the flesh of my cheek. The salt-water that dripped from my face onto Lyra’s became tinged with russet. She winced as that saltiness ran over the tiny cuts in her flesh, eyes opening at the new hurt.

Despite the pain it meant that she was in, my heart leaped at the movement.

_She’s not dead._

The sudden stillness in her ribcage that followed told a different story.

In that ever-lasting moment, I could see everything about Lyra in such crystalline focus… Her brown hair fell around her in waves; like tresses of hazelnut and caramel-coloured silk; the heated blush of passion that was fading from her cheeks, leaving her skin stark and colourless in comparison to the blood dribbling down her chin; how her warm eyes had locked onto mine with such determination in their gaze, only to clench shut as tears of pain streaked her cheeks… How when those warm, loving, beautiful eyes opened again, trying desperately to stay awake… They were no longer bright with that fiery spirit that I so loved.

Her eyes were empty.

_She’s not dead._

I refused to believe otherwise.

_She’s not dead._

_She’s not dead._

_SHE’S NOT DEAD!_

_NOT DEAD! NOT DEAD! NOT DEAD! NOT DEAD!_

It became a maddening chant in my head as I remembered that we weren’t alone. The beast was pacing back and forth behind me, growing ever-closer to Lyra. When I looked at him, my gaze met the gleeful and hungry eyes of a predator approaching an easy meal.

An ocean of cold rage swept me away, choking me. It pushed my lips apart and filled my throat, my lungs, my stomach. It turned my insides from flesh to a violent storm of ice and wind.

The snarl that came from deep in my chest was not human.

The sound probably scared me more than the beast, but nevertheless, it slowed to a near stand-still. The beast’s muzzle twisted into what can only be described as a triumphant smirk. It’s pitch eyes glinted with a feral sort of pride as it watched me creep around Lyra, putting myself between them.

 “If you fucking dare…” I didn’t recognise my own voice. “I’ll kill you.”

The beast growled in response, but it sounded more like wicked laughter. He charged, and the storm inside my body became a solid mass of ice.

No rage, or hatred, or fear. Just a frozen waste-land of calm.

The beast was almost upon us. I dug my feet into the ground, and ran at it. My hands grabbed at the matted hair of its neck, and yanked. Hard. It snapped at my shoulders, and managed to sink its teeth into the meat of my arm. The pain was like a shot of fire-whiskey; burning, heady and addictive. I welcomed the burning in my arm, and tore the limb from the beast’s mouth. My shoulder was screaming at me, but I was too lost in the burning and the calm.

Yearning for more of that pain, I wrapped a hand around each of the beast’s jaws, and pulled. I waited for it to bite down, to crush my fingers and dip them in that blissful pain, but it didn’t.

I hated it for not giving me more pain.

Pain was better than that raging cold.

I gritted my teeth, and yanked. Harder, harder, harder, until the beast growled and shook me off. I rolled as I landed, and came to a stop before a young oak tree. The beast was curled over, cradling its maw. I looked up, got to my feet, and jumped to grab the lowest hanging limb.

 

* * *

 

GOREN’S POV

I could hear her working away at the branch behind me, and I knew that she’d never manage to snap it on her own. My jaw ached a little, but still I made a show of clutching it close to my chest. Can’t have our little huntress thinking that her efforts were for null, now can we?

I made sure that she heard me as I ran at the tree, aiming for the base, where she had been moments ago. She lifted herself as I rammed into the trunk, and if she saw me dig my claw into the small crack she’d made in the limb, she didn’t react. I pushed my head against the tree, and feigned a swipe at her. She twisted, and easily pulled the rest of the tree-branch free.

The girl’s shadow told me when to brace myself as the wood was brought down on the back of my neck. Again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again she bashed at my neck and head with the branch. I supressed my instinct to heal, and gritted my teeth as I reminded myself what needed to be done.

I made to grab at the stick, but swiped my neck with long claws.

As I hoped, within seconds, she was again swinging away at me. Finally, the club broke through my tough Fae hide.

But this was taking too long.

The girl was wheezing, and her arms were shaking from effort. Her blood-rage was being won over by exhaustion and fatigue. Soon, the violent emotions that she was feeling would be spent and she’d crash.

I needed to keep her angry, for just a while longer…

I growled, startling her, and twisted so that when I threw myself onto the ground, I landed _very_ close to the other girl. The grass beneath her was so soggy with snow that the fabric of her dress was quickly getting soaked. If the fall hadn’t killed her, then the freezing cold would’ve. Her feet were half in the water, protected by the thin layer of ice still at the edge. Even in this state… Her simple beauty reminded me of my own secret love.

 _Forgive me, Perry._ I sent the thought along the bond between us that I knew she didn’t feel.

I hated myself for doing it, but if this was the price for freedom…

Making sure that her dark-haired lover saw me, I dragged my tongue over my chops and breathed in the girl’s decaying scent, my stomach turning at the vulgarity of the action. I made myself groan in anticipation, and looked back; tauntingly, daring her to try and stop me from devouring my prey.

_By the Cauldron, woman! Get it over with! Just kill me already!_

 

* * *

 

HALLE’S POV

I had only one thought. _I’m going to kill it_.

The burning, the pain, the calm, the ice, the rage, the storm… It all fell away as that _thing_ began practically drooling over Lyra’s b—Over Lyra.

Looking at her like she was some kind of prized mount, rather than a girl. The action reminded me of the Elders that her father answered to; they’d looked at her the same way. I’d always wanted so badly to hurt them for looking at her like that…

A memory played in my mind: We were hiding in the from our parents in the chapel. It was one of the first times that we were alone together, and I was so nervous that my hand shook in hers. But she was so sweet, and gentle and I was in love with her already.

Then, when Elder Dunn appeared in the doors, and all that he could do was stare hungrily at Lyra and me, I remember seeing red. I threw a stool at him. Lyra and I were scolded separately afterwards. It was probably that very incident that made me such a villain in the minds of Mr. and Mrs. Bloome.

Standing over the beast as it inched ever closer to Lyra’s place in the snowy embankment, I revelled in the idea that for once I was living up to their expectations. I tore a few pieces of hanging bark from my makeshift-club, until it was one solid stake.

Channelling my anger and disgust, I roared as I jumped onto the beast’s back, and slamming the pike into the base of its neck. The wood splintered upon impact, but I pushed it further and further down, until the majority of the club was buried in flesh…          …After an eternity, I realised that the thing beneath me wasn’t going to get back up…         …I decided that I didn’t want to get back up either…  …Then I remembered that Lyra was stilling lying in the dirt…

Dirt, wood, and hair clung to me as I slid off of the creature’s back.

Each step towards Lyra made my body feel heavier and heavier. As a result, when I reached her side, I fell down, rather than sat next to her.

“Who knew killing something was so draining, eh?” I whispered with a snicker, feeling the irrational need to lighten the mood. Lyra didn’t laugh at my joke.

Because Lyra was dead.

I choked on my sobs, and wrapped her in my arms. I crushed our bodies against each other, in a way that we both once might’ve enjoyed. But now, the action felt empty.

Without Lyra, my world was empty.

Without Lyra, I was empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EXPLANATION/S:  
> Unlike Feyre, Halle does not know how to hunt or fight - This is why her attempts to kill Goren are rather... In-efficient?  
> Who is "Perry" that Goren speaks of? You'll find out in Chapter 5!  
> Mr. and Mrs. Bloome are Lyra's parents, in case that wasn't clear.
> 
> Chapter 4 will be up within 2 weeks (which I have decided is a far more realistic update schedule than the weekly one I had originally planned - This change is due to Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and the fact that I am currently doing my HSC).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, SO SORRY about that incredibly late update, guys.  
> I'm not even gonna pretend that I'm gonna stick to a schedule anymore.   
> Like, you're not buying it. I'm not buying it.  
> Let's just say that... I'll update as soon as I can, but I make no promises.
> 
> (PS: School started up the week after I published Chapter 3, and since then, shit has been hitting the fan left, right and center! Plus... I re-kindled by love for BTS, so... blame them!)

* * *

JON BAKER Jr.’s POV

I remember the first time that I saw Lyra Bloome.

It was at her Induction Ceremony, on the midsummer eve of her thirteenth birthday. Most acolytes were inducted at bi-annual ceremonial gatherings, but this was _Lyra Bloome_ , eldest daughter of Chadwick Bloome, a High Priest of the Children and the village’s sole Healer. She deserved (or rather, her over-the-top mother and father demanded) her own ceremony, so that she could begin her life as an acolyte.

She was radiant.

Her hair was curled beneath a delicate diadem of pearl and silver. The plain white dress that she wore covered enough of her slight arms and legs to be modest, but the cut was not shapeless enough to hide the curve of her slim waist or the shape of her developing bosom. Silver powder dusted her cheeks and collarbones, while the matching circlets on her wrists and ankles glinted with every step she took.

As her father tied strings of tiny silver bells around her eyes (so she shall never be blind to the Immortal’s good work), hands (so that her own work shall never be of impure or selfish nature) and middle (to pledge her mortal body and soul to the Fae Lords of Prythian) while her mother, accompanied by a small girls-choir, sung melodic hymns about the wealth of Prythian, the un-ending love of the Fae, and the un-told riches that await the Children invited to live beyond the Wall…

Blocking out the mind-numbing chants of her peers, I remember thinking to myself… _With the face of an angel, and the beginnings of a courtesan’s body… A girl like that is wasted as an acolyte! She could become the subject of such devoted worship if only she dared!_

There was little of that youthful beauty left to be found as I picked her up. The worsening chill, mixed with nature’s ways had locked her joints in a half-curled foetal position, making it somewhat difficult to carry her, but not as much so as the bloodied hands of her… companion.

Her face was painfully familiar, but her name …Holly? …Hadley? …Hollow?

 _Hollow_ suited her, as she stumble-walked a few paced behind me. Every so often, I’d spare a glance over my shoulder at her, and each time, her gaunt expression would chill me to the bone.

Honestly, Lyra’s weighted form looked more alive than the shadow-wraith at my back. A gravelly hum caught my attention. I could barely hear the words, but I recognised the sound. The girl was mumbling to herself, her voice gravelly and weak.

“ _My fault_ …”

“ _She’s gone_ …”

“ _My fault_ …”

“ _I did it_ …”

“ _My fault_ …”

“ _She’s not coming back_ …”

“ _My fault_ …”

On and on she went, repeating her murmurings like they were some kind of prayer. Whether she was praying for forgiveness, or punishment, or both, I would never know.

I chose to ignore her, and instead focused on leading the way back to the village, using the torch-light of my father’s bakery as a guide. I knew that my mother would not extinguish it until I arrived, even if I bought the dawn with me. I also knew that father often smothered the light soon after she fell asleep.

I began running, once again struggling with Lyra’s ill-distributed weight.

Thankfully, mother seemed to be having a sleepless night.

* * *

 FINN BLOOME’S POV 

The yelling outside the apothecary was what woke me up.

I slipped from my bed, and crept across to Lyra’s. I hadn’t heard her sneak back in after dinner, but perhaps she’d arrived after I’d fallen asleep? I knew that answer before I tore back the thin covers.

Lyra hadn’t gotten back from the meadow yet.

I saw my parent’s light on through the hall, and suddenly felt a shot of fear. If they had caught her, or worse caught _them_ …

I wrapped Lyra’s blanket around my middle, reasoning that I hadn’t time to find and put on any pants. Pausing only to pull on my boots, I ran out into the shop.

Perhaps half of the town had come out to witness the commotion, and quite a few had joined in. Father was bent over someone on the make-shift operating table, and Mother was rubbing his back. I could hear them sobbing, but my gut told me that more than half of the tears were for their bruised reputation. I remember the first time that Father failed to ‘save’ someone.

It was the talk of the village for almost a week, but soon enough it was forgotten.

Disgust curled in my stomach, but after taking in the expressions of those around the huddled couple, it settled into a heavy stone of worry and fear.

I searched the small crowd for familiar faces. Zak, the baker’s youngest son, was vomiting into the rosemary and mint plants at the door. Father’s assistant, a tall brown-skinned girl named Faith, who was known for her strong stomach, looked like she was about to join him.  

Mrs Pam from the grocer spotted me, and alerted my mother. I was surprised to see actual salt-water in my mother’s eyes when she turned around. She shuffled over to my side, and hugged me tighter than ever before. She was clutching my head to her chest, in what I assumed was her pitiful attempt at keeping me from looking past her.

Recognising my chance to finally catch a glimpse of the side of Father’s work that I was forbidden from witnessing, I lifted my neck, and stared at the half-curled form in the older man’s arms.

And I screamed.

* * *

  **~ 36 HOURS LATER ~  
**

* * *

HALLE’S POV

_she isn’t gone she isn’t gone she isn’t gone she isn’t gone not gone not gone not gone not gone not gone not not not not not not!_

The phrases went round and around in my head.

_she isn’t gone she isn’t gone she isn’t gone she isn’t gone not gone not gone not gone not gone not gone not not not not not not!_

Each word was like another knot in the phantom noose around my neck.

 _she isn’t gone she isn’t gone she isn’t gone she isn’t gone not gone not gone not gone not gone not gone not not not not not not!_  

The rope of the noose was making my neck itchy…

_she isn’t gone she isn’t gone she isn’t gone she isn’t gone not gone not gone not gone not gone not gone not not not not not not!_

My arms, legs, my stomach, my back, my chest, my neck… 

_she isn’t gone she isn’t gone she isn’t gone she isn’t gone not gone not gone not gone not gone not gone not not not not not not!_

No matter how hard I scratched at my skin, it wouldn’t stop.

_she isn’t gone she isn’t gone she isn’t gone she isn’t gone not gone not gone not gone not gone not gone not not not not not not!_

It wouldn’t stop.

_she isn’t gone she isn’t gone she isn’t gone she isn’t gone not gone not gone not gone not gone not gone not not not not not not!_

I just wanted it to STOP!

Someone started yelling at me, and then they hit something against the side of my head. I fell back against a wall, and let my eyelids drop. I was too tired to wonder why they were yelling, or why they hit me. I was too tired to care why.

All I knew was that the sleepiness that crept up on me made the chanting stop.

As darkness and quiet wrapped around me, I yearned for nothing more than for it to start torturing me again. _Come back_ … _Come back_ … _Don’t leave me alone_ …

 ~

Sunlight fell through the window behind the door to the church cellar. I knew that if I tried to, I would be able to make out the shape of who ever had opened the door. However, I didn’t try to see them; didn’t want to know who they were.

But, I heard them talking, and found out anyway.

“…we are truly honoured…” Mr Bloome.

“…yes, yes… of course, **Your Highness** …” Father Reddick.

“…is there nothing else that would please you…” The third voice made me start. _Father_? What could’ve dragging him from the confines of his hunting shed? Once, I might’ve squealed and jumped at the surprise visit. But, in that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to so much as give him a smile.

“…I beg you, **Lord** , to inflict upon her… whatever retribution you desire…” … and my Mother.

Of course she was here.

I recalled an earlier blow to the head, and the idea it had been her doing was not surprising, nor unfamiliar. If she was here and if she was _agreeing_ with whatever they were talking about…

I winced inwardly at the thought.

 “As was my intention.” Another voice; another male. 

It was a voice that sounded like fresh grass on bare feet; of cool breezes tugging gently on hair and skirts; it sounded like the morning sun as it melted through the harsh chill of winter and breathed new life into the Earth.

It sounded like the meadow by the stream, the grass plagued by smatterings of bright wildflowers. It sounded like cloud-watching at dawn with Lyra.

I decided that I hated that voice.


End file.
